


My Friend Pedro- One Shot Collection

by TheCrowBitesDust



Category: My Friend Pedro
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Murder, Sibling Bonding, people die when they are killed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 01:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20267815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrowBitesDust/pseuds/TheCrowBitesDust
Summary: A series of small, non-chronological but interconnected oneshots exploring the life of Pedro's Friend before the events of the game.





	1. teeth on the floor

Blood splashes across the wall.

Denny staggers, his hand rushing to his face. Red seeps between his fingers as he clutches his nose, and he looks up at his assailant with wide teary eyes.

The elder teenager didn't seem to care. Another fist slammed into the side of Denny's jaw. Teeth clattered onto the asphalt, quickly followed by his skull. A knee presses hard against his back and a hand grips his neck too tight. Dull pain radiates through his body, the icy burn flooding from his bruised eye and split lips.

"Should've fucking paid up, bitchboy."

He can't fight it as his head is forced up only to be slammed back down into the ground. There's an audible crunch as his nose breaks. Pain lances through him and he cries aloud, only to be answered by the ground in another brutal whack. He can hear the other boys laughing around him, jeering and mocking.

The grip on his neck tightens and Denny tenses, prepared to be beaten down again; there is a scream from above him and the pressure on his back vanishes. 

He manages to raise his head slightly. The world whirls and blurs, colours oversaturated and painful. But he can make out two new silhouettes in the gang of people and feels hope and relief blossom through him.

Ophelia is twisting the black-haired teenager's arm behind his back. His face is crunched in agony as she continues to twist. Her face is stony and full of fire.

Guy stands between Denny and the rest of the gang, hands raised and legs apart, tense and coiled on the balls of his feet. A jaguar, poised to pounce. 

The gang of teens seem equally as surprised as Denny, though their faces quickly regain their sneering expressions.

"Hey now!" 

One of the other teens called out. His chest was puffed in forced bravado as he stepped forward- the pained cry coming from his friend as Ophelia sharply pulled on his arm stopped him. 

"Uh, what I mean to say is, this guy refused to pay up! He betrayed us, so we're just teachin' him a lesson! That's all! We ain't doing nothing wrong! Gang business, y'know?"

"Turn around."

A voice so cold it froze the air. Its speaker remained stock still, barely even the rise and fall of his chest to indicate he was breathing. Guy hadn't even spared a glance towards the faux leader, brown eyes locked onto a girl who stood near the back of the gang.

"Hey, you can't just come into our territory and start bossin' us around! Who do you-"

The teen that had stepped forward was silenced as the girl raised her hand.

"Huh? Boss, wh-"

"Why should we?"

Her voice didn't quite match the coldness of Guy's, but it certainly served the intended purpose.

She too stood tall, with an easy air that one could mistake for confidence, a gleam in her eyes that spoke of cruelty and domination. Wolf's eyes, and the role in her gang to match. 

It was Ophelia who answered the leader's question.

"Because we always give people three chances to run. Go, now."

Wolf Eyes moved forward a step. A wordless statement even the most foolish could read. Refusal.

A harsh crack akin to a gunshot rang out in the silence, accompanied by a scream. Ophelia dropped the black haired teen's now floppy arm. He stumbled forward then fled to safety out the street. 

"Last chance. Turn around and forget this ever happened."

Each word was spoken with eerie frozen calm, Ophelia's expression unchanging. 

Wolf Eyes' face twisted in anger and hatred as she stepped forward. She seemed to consider something.

"You really dare to throw around threats when there's only two of you and twelve of us?" Wolf Eyes huffed a slight chuckle as she raised a hand.

"Normally I'd be fair and only let two of my Wolves savage you, but since you've pissed me off, you don't get my mercy."

She flung her hand down at the same time that Guy finally moved. The words were barely out of her mouth when the first teen fell, blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and a shoe-shaped bruise already forming over his face.

Guy rebounded off the wall and leapt at another of the goons with leg outstretched. The teen darted out of the way just in time to meet a fist to the throat, and Guy used that momentum to swing around in a perfectly-executed spinning kick. Another kid stumbled down, winded, and Ophelia slammed his face into the concrete as she too joined the scramble. 

It was beautiful carnage. The duo wove and danced within the gang as if they were nought but wind, pouncing and striking with brutal precision. Each movement was fluid as water and impassioned as fire. They complimented each other's moves in perfect predator's grace, a lioness and a jaguar verses a pack of mutts.

In the heat of it Wolf Eyes ran at Ophelia, nothing but rage burning in those wild wolfish eyes. Her first swing clipped Ophelia's head and sent her stumbling back out of the main crowd. Wolf Eyes leapt again. A sweeping kick threw her to the side, stumbling, but she recovered with the speed of an experienced street fighter and came back at Ophelia with an iron fist. 

There was a crunch. Blood arced into the air as Ophelia's nose was broken. She staggered back but managed to avoid the next kick and come forward with a strong left hook. Enamel spread across the floor. 

Wolf Eyes fell back, clutching her bloody mouth as she glared at Ophelia with pure hatred cut into every line of her face. But Ophelia could see the fear and faint respect in her body and let her retreat.

Guy has taken down the rest of the gang. They scramble and stagger and stumble, up and away, backing down with their metaphorical tails between their legs. Their leader fixes one last glare at the duo, spitting red on the ground in a final act of anger before turning and walking away with the rest of them.

  
  
  


They don't relax until the gang is gone.

  
  
  


Then Ophelia is by Denny's side, helping him sit up gently with careful hands. She seems not to care about her own injuries, instead worriedly checking over her younger brother.

"Open your mouth." Despite her short words her tone is soft and concerned. 

Denny obliges in his concussed daze. Blood drips down his chin, sticky and metallic.

"You're lucky. They only knocked out your baby teeth."

Ophelia squints at his swollen nose, before touching it lightly with the tips of her fingers. It's tender and Denny holds back a cry at the pain. She must have noticed the wetness in his eyes because she immediately retracted her hand. 

"It doesn't look too bad. Probably just fractured. It'll heal up fine."

Her own nose is twisted and smushed and rapidly swelling, blood dripping down her neck and onto her purple shirt. But she disregards it entirely, instead focusing on Denny.

Ophelia looks at his eyes for a minute, and the intensity that always burns deep in her brown eyes still intimidates Denny even though he's seen it a hundred times. The predator's gaze breaks away from his as her forehead furrowed slightly, looking him over.

"You've got a minor concussion."

Guy crouches down beside them, making Denny jump although Ophelia doesn't react. He didn't even see his older brother approach, let alone hear him! 

Denny quietly admits to himself that he probably never will be able to tell when either of his siblings are approaching, knowing their incredible skills. 

A lukewarm wet flannel is pressed into his hand. He doesn't know when Guy brought- or found- a medkit, but he's grateful nonetheless when he presses the medicine-infused cloth against his nose and the pain dulls into nothing. He takes his brother's hand and allows him to help him up. Now he's closer he sees the state Guy is in- blood drips steadily from a deep looking gash across his lips and there's bruising and swelling already forming around his eyes and cheeks. Dark crimson stains his brother's torn black shirt, though whether it's his or the other teenagers' Denny doesn't know, and he sees the stiffness in his actions that indicate he's busted a few ribs. Ophelia stands too and the way she holds her left ankle slightly raised shows she's probably sprained it.

"Come on, let's get you home." 

Ophelia's tone is soft as she puts a hand on Denny's shoulder, supporting him. In turn he grips her arm back, offering himself as a walking aid. He feels Guy stumble slightly beside him and puts an arm out, holding the older teen's forearm. Guy tenses, but then allows Denny to help him balance.

Together the trio walk home, supporting each other the whole way back.

  
  
  



	2. trippin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guy overdoses again. Ophelia finds him again. Neither is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its in guy's pov for. some reason.

Ophelia found me first.

She doesn't say anything.

Just knocks the empty bottle away from me as she reaches down, grabbing my arm in an iron vice. Pain doesn't register, not anymore, and she hoists me up with harshness in her movement. Blood scatters over the concrete. Is it mine? 

"Why?"

A question. A word in a tone that reeks of pity and resignation.

Her face is etched in hard lines, blurring with purples and blues and yellows. Words, spelling out contempt. 

I can't answer. The world's in different colours and it hurts my eyes, but I refuse to look away. 

She sighs. Lets go of my arm as she looks through her bag. Bottles clink as she searches. 

The world shimmers and turns and I turn with it until the floor cuts my face.

There's something being pressed against my dry mouth. 

It's wet, and the top of the bottle is cold. 

I don't want to drink it. I don't want to go back to that world. 

But it is persistent and my thirst overrides my bitterness.

It works almost instantaneously. The numbness vanishes, and cold wind cuts into me like glass. I meet Ophelia's eyes, just for a second, cold brown lined by disdain.

Then my body finally reacts to the poison and I rise up, turning back as the medicine and pills leave my system. A sickly sweet taste is left behind, only serving to increase my nausea. 

"You have to stop this behaviour."

She thinks she is above me yet she is barely a year older. 

It's due to my work behind the scenes that she has an empire at all.

My hands are bloody while hers stay pristine.

Something yellow flickers in the corner of my vision.

It's Pedro. He offers me a small half-smile, helping me through this.

Ophelia's eyes track my line of sight and the harsh lines of her face tighten in masked concern. 

I don't give her an answer, returning her gaze with my own scorn. 

She tenses, but does not dare to raise her hand. Instead she turns sharply, throwing me the bag with an offhand gesture. It does not hide the anger that floods her.

I catch it with a hand.

"I expect to see you reporting in tomorrow. Don't try anything stupid."

Ophelia stalks out of the dingy alleyway with the predator's grace that shapes our family, all precision and lethality. 

A lioness in an urban jungle.

But the cut of her body tells me all I need to know. She is angry, concerned, worried and beneath it all afraid.

I wait until she's vanished from sight to take the health pack out the bag.

  
  
  


The next day, when I report in the job, I can see the relief beneath her frozen eyes.


End file.
